What Happens if I Travel WIth Myself?
by GovernorPhatt
Summary: The Ninth and Eleventh Doctors meet under stressful circumstances. Pre-series 1/mid-series 7. I DO NOT OWN DOCTOR WHO. Inspired by Time Crash (all credit to Steven Moffatt & the BBC). For my thesis in Journalism, I'm looking at responses to fanfiction. Information is at rapidshare(dot)com/files/599502596/sup.docx, with an Information Sheet and Consent Form. Feel free to contact me!


"What happens if I travel with myself?"

The Doctor was sitting in an armchair with his feet on the TARDIS console, reading _Watchmen_ for the eleventh time – he was still picking up new things he'd missed the first ten times around – and had reached the first section where one of the main characters split into copies of himself. It had been a fortnight since he had visited Amy Pond for the last time, and although River had made him promise not to travel alone, he'd decided that some alone time was necessary. He was sick of all the people he'd taken on board the TARDIS throughout the years who inevitably left him, so he lit on the one idea he'd never had before for a companion – what about the one person who could never leave him?

He gave a sigh, before draping the book over his face. Every time he'd had to work with himself to save the universe, it had been an arduous experience with nothing but petty bickering. If he had to travel with another of his incarnations, they'd inevitably have a falling out by afternoon tea – they might prefer Oreos to Jammy Dodgers, the philistine! – and go their separate ways again.

Still, it was an interesting idea to toss around. But the likelihood of bumping into one of his other selves – much less travelling with them – was a fantasy that he didn't think was completely uninteresting.

The Doctor checked his watch to check what the time was. Twenty past four on a Sunday afternoon – the most depressing time of the whole week. Time to do the laundry (it never ceased to astound him that, no matter how big the TARDIS' wardrobe was, his dirty washing basket was always full). Letting out a sigh, The Doctor tossed his copy of _Watchmen_ onto the TARDIS console and got up to do put a load on.

This turned out to be a particularly bad idea, as the moment it hit the console a series of sirens and lights went off. Leaping out of his chair, The Doctor raced over to the controls to see what had happened. With a look of horror creeping across his face, he realised that he'd hit the Attraction Alarm – the emergency mechanism that sent out a distress signal that immediately made the nearest TARDIS materialise next to his. He clapped a hand over his mouth in terror. Since the only other TARDIS in the universe was his from different time periods, this could only mean one thing…

* * *

The Doctor glared at his own reflection in the mirror. He didn't know what kind of clothes he was going to wear in his newest incarnation, but he knew that he definitely didn't want to wear anything like the Victorian cowboy get-up his last self at worn. Jeans and a jumper? No, he needed something a little more… him. Scouring through the racks of the TARDIS wardrobe, he searched for something, anything that would make himself feel more like one of his past lives.

The first week of his regeneration had been harrowing. He didn't remember what exactly had happened, except that the Daleks and the Time Lords had all been wiped out – and it was all his doing. For the most part, he'd spent his time either curled up on the floor or hunched over the TARDIS console, drenched in sweat and with tears welling up in his eyes. Now it was time to attempt to go back to the real world. He was going to go to the scene of a major disaster and save as many people as he possibly could. It wouldn't be a complete act of redemption, but it would be a start.

He paused. Since he didn't know exactly which disaster he was going to, he needed to look as inconspicuous as possible. Something that was timeless but could fit into a specific role if necessary. Then his eyes caught a battered, double-breasted leather jacket. Perfect! He could pass from anything from an eighteenth century naval officer to a twentieth century private investigator to a twenty fourth century Martian architect. He slipped it on, checked his reflection in the mirror, and smiled for the first time in a week.

"Lookin' good, Doctor!"

He stopped for a second. That was the first word his vocal chords had uttered. His voice was a lot more blue-collar than his previous self's, more gruff, more… Northern. He shrugged it off and ran to the TARDIS console, wondering who he was going to save and where.

When he got there, he saw that the Attraction Alarm was going off. He was mortified and elated at the same time. Another TARDIS! Another Time Lord! The readout said he was going to twenty past four on July the 7th, 2013.

The Doctor realised that because of a miscalculation, the two TARDISes were going to occupy the same space and time. This could only mean one thing – the two of them were going to collide and become one. He shuddered, and braced himself for the impact.

He didn't know what was going to happen, but for the first time in his short life the Ninth Doctor felt a glimmer of hope.

* * *

The two TARDISes slammed together as they merged, creating a shockwave so powerful it sent the combined TARDIS spinning out of the solar system at breakneck speed.

When the gravity had finally settled and the room had stopped spinning, the two Doctors picked themselves off the floor and laid eyes on one another.

The Ninth Doctor instinctively knew he was looking at his own future. When he saw the tall, gangly man with the tweed jacket, pre-tied bowtie, clip-on braces, skinny jeans and overly maintained hair, he felt disgusted.

"I end up being turned into a hipster?"

The Eleventh Doctor would normally have been hurt by such an attack on his dress sense, but he was too busy choking back rage to articulate a defence.

"YOU."

For the last two hundred years he'd been running away from the awful things he'd done in the Time War, and now there was proof of his own actions standing in front of him. The sinister looking Ninth Doctor, who looked like a skinhead with his shorn hair, black leather coat, and chilling blue eyes, filled the Eleventh with immediate self-loathing and fury.

There was a long and awkward pause between the two Doctors, before the Ninth broke the ice.

"So what d'you want, then?" asked the Ninth.

The Eleventh gripped hold of the TARDIS console, his knuckles turning white and glistening with sweat.

"I want you out of here, right away."

The Ninth was hurt. He'd come all this way to answer a distress beacon, and all he was met with was hostility! Suddenly, the past week over anguish and torment rose out of a deep well inside him, and started fuming.

"What have I done to upset you so much?! You stuck-up ponce with your skinny jeans and your clip-on bow tie! You think you can sit there and judge me for the things I did without taking any responsibility for yourself?"

"I'd rather be a stuck-up ponce than a cold-blooded mass murderer! I want you out of my TARDIS right now!"

"I don't even want to be here! I was on my way to do some good and start making up for what I've done when your distress call drags me out here!"

"Distress call? All I did was drop a book where I shouldn't've! If you think I actually need your help, you've got another thing coming."

The Ninth Doctor snorted. "Well I guess I'll be on m' way. Thanks for nothing, you jerk."

"Don't come back anytime soon!" spat the Eleventh.

Another tremor shocked the TARDIS. The two Doctors braced themselves against the console until the vibrations stopped. Without a word, the two exchanged furious glances, before the Ninth went to disconnect his TARDIS from the Eleventh's.

The only problem was the controls weren't responding.

"The controls are fried!" he growled, throwing his hands up in the air.

The Eleventh smirked at his predecessor. "Is that a technical term? My, how much science has advanced since then."

"This isn't a joke, mate!" yelled the Ninth. "According to this read-out, we're orbiting a green hole!"

"What?" The Eleventh sprinted over to the Ninth's side of the TARDIS console.

"But that's impossible! Green holes are a temporal theorem! They've never been proved to exist!"

"Well, this one does," said the Ninth, wild-eyed with fear.

The two Doctors exchanged knowing glances - no matter the vitriol between them, they'd have to work together to survive this mess. With a silent nod, they both reached for the button for the TARDIS' viewing screen.

Outside, there was a swirling ball of pure gravity, warping everything in its radius into an accelerating orbit.

"A green hole-" said the Ninth Doctor.

"A rotating mass of gravity-" said the Eleventh.

"That sucks everything nearby into its path-"

"And causes it to accelerate until it reaches critical speed-"

"And disintegrates into nothingness."

There was a brief pause as the two Doctors looked awkwardly at one another.

"Thanks for explaining that, Captain Obvious," they quipped in unison.

"What are we gonna do?" asked the Eleventh.

"I know what I'm gonna do," said the Ninth as he whipped out his sonic screwdriver.

The Eleventh Doctor rubbed his chin incredulously. "What are you proposing we do?"

"If we can fix the controls, then maybe we can make the TARDIS split in two, and the force will wrench both of them in opposite directions-"

"And break out of the gravitational pull," the Eleventh Doctor beamed. "Fantastic!"

The Ninth Doctor looked up from the controls. "That's not bad, that!" he said appreciatively, before gritting his teeth over the smoking metal.

"What's the matter?" asked the Eleventh.

"The controls are so burned out, the Sonic Screwdriver's not doing anything! "

A smile crept over the Eleventh's face. "Then maybe it's time we cross the streams."

The Ninth Doctor glared at his older self. "Do you make lame quips about everything?"

"What? What's wrong with _Ghostbusters_? _Ghostbusters_ is cool."

"Yeah, if you were a ten-year-old growing up in the '80s."

The Eleventh Doctor ignored his younger self's gibe as he drew his Sonic Screwdriver and held its bulb right next to the Ninth's.

"What are you doing?"

"If we double the power of our screwdrivers, maybe we can summon enough energy to jump-start the controls. It's only a temporary solution, but it might just drag us out of this mess."

The Ninth Doctor grinned cockily. "Not a bad plan at all! Good to see I don't turn into a total prat!" He took his finger off the button. "Ready?"

"Ready! GERONIMO!"

The two Doctors gripped onto the centre console and activated their Sonic Screwdrivers at the same time. The combined energy from both let off an ear-splitting distorted whine as sparks flew everywhere, but the two gritted their teeth until the console started to flicker back to life.

"It's working!" roared the Eleventh.

"Yeah, but it's still not enough! It needs a little extra juice!" barked the Ninth.

"What d'you think we should do?" yelled the Eleventh.

A mischevious grin broke out on the Ninth's face as the two made eye contact. The Eleventh Doctor reeled back in horror as he realised what his younger self meant.

"You don't mean-"

"Yup!"

"But… sexy!" the Eleventh stammered in defence of his beloved TARDIS.

"It's the only way!"

The Eleventh resigned himself. "Okay, but only because we have to!" He briefly caressed the centre console. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, you know I love you," he whispered to the TARDIS.

"What? What is wrong with you?" the Ninth groaned with exasperation.

"Oh, nothing. On three! One…"

"Two…"

The Doctors drew in a deep breath and locked eyes.

"THREE!" they yelled together, before kicking the centre console as hard as they could.

The extra kick was all the console needed, and as if responding to its panicking crew, immediately flashed back to life.

"HURRAH!" yelled the Eleventh Doctor.

"FAN-_TAS_-TIC!" yelled the Ninth.

Without lowering their screwdrivers, they lifted their hands off the TARDIS console and high-fived. The energy of the console coming back from the dead, the opposing force of their Sonic Screwdrivers, and the lack of any sufficient purchase on solid ground propelled the two Doctors through the air to opposite sides of the TARDIS.

After they'd picked themselves off the ground, they immediately raced back to the centre console and took up position at the controls.

"Okay! If this works, both our versions of the TARDIS will shoot off in opposite directions, sending us away from the green hole, and we'll never see each other again!" yelled the Eleventh.

"Right. And if it doesn't work, we'll keep spinning until we're incinerated in a manner of minutes," growled the Ninth.

The Eleventh looked up at his grouchy predecessor with a look of sheer exasperation. "Have you ever tried being positive before?"

The Ninth shot his older self an apologetic grin. "Sorry. It's been a long week."

The Eleventh returned his grin, before the two activated the controls.

As if by magic, the two TARDISes started breaking apart. The two Doctors roared in triumph as the two were sent spiraling in opposite directions, bursting out of the green hole's orbit. The speed of the rotating TARDISes lurched both Doctors off their feet, and they speed towards one another in mid-air – but because they were dematerialising, the two Doctors passed through each other, and landed on the floor.

* * *

After they'd picked themselves off the ground for what seemed like the thousandth time that day, the two Doctors stood face to face for the last time.

"We're not really in the same TARDIS," said the Eleventh.

"This is just residual energy left in each other's time stream. We'll fade out of each other's TARDIS in a minute," said the Ninth. He wondered why he was explaining something his older self clearly understood, but since he hadn't talked to anyone in over a week he figured that this was more for his own peace of mind than anyone else's.

The Eleventh smiled warmly at his younger self. "Sorry for all the awful things I said earlier. When I was you, I would've done the exact same thing."

The Ninth beamed back. "Don't worry about it. We all get a bit worked up when we're confronting the past. So what are you gonna do now?"

"Me? I dunno. Maybe I'll go to Androzani major for a holiday. Last time I went there it was a bit of a downer, but it should be good for a bit of dune surfing right now. What about you?"

"Right now, I feel like I need to go and help some people out in another disaster area. I need to feel like I can still function as one of the good guys. Maybe I'll and check out the Titanic. Or visit Krakatoa. Or go and visit JFK. Remember Jack?"

"Oh, Jack!" The Eleventh grinned in fond recollection. "Man, we had some wild parties."

The Ninth Doctor smiled. "Yeah, we did. I've never seen a man drink so much through a rolled-up fifty."

His eyebrows slanted into a frown as he started to fade away from the Eleventh's view. "But before I go, there's something I have to tell you."

"Oh? What's that?" The Eleventh wondered what his predecessor could say that would possibly come as a surprise.

"That bowtie?" said the Ninth?

"What about it?" asked the Eleventh.

"It's just that, well…" The Ninth was growing transparent.

"… yes?" murmured the Eleventh, suspiciously.

The Ninth vanished completely, before his voice rang out throughout the empty control room.

"It's really not cool."

The Eleventh Doctor snapped. "BOW TIES ARE COOL!" he bellowed.

But it was no use. The Ninth had returned to his own time stream.

The Eleventh Doctor slumped back into his armchair, and picked up his now very battered copy o_f Watchmen_. The laundry could wait a few days – he had a healthy supply of clean crew-neck jumpers, as well as a leather jacket he hadn't worn it years. They should tide him over until he could muster up the effort to do his washing.

As he flicked back to his spot in his book, the Doctor remembered the question he'd asked himself earlier in the afternoon – what would happen if he travelled with himself?

He let out a hearty snort as he dismissed the idea. "Not in a thousand years!"


End file.
